


Music Isn't Therapeutic

by AzureMist



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Callie-Centric, Character Study, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, POV First Person, Post-Splatoon 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Splatoon 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureMist/pseuds/AzureMist
Summary: Everyone always says music is calming, or that it helps getting through trauma. They say music is healing. It used to be like that for me, too. But that first performance back from my 'hiatus', music ripped open old wounds, with the words I sang as I was used as a tool against my will.





	Music Isn't Therapeutic

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do a character study involving Callie and her trauma during Splatoon 2 for a while, and I've finally gotten around to it! I hope I did her justice.
> 
> By the way, 'fall in water' is what I chose to be this universe's equivalent of 'break a leg', because the Inklings don't have bones. Also, this in my first work in this fandom, so if I got some things wrong, that would be why!

“Callie. Callie.”

I didn’t look at Marie immediately. Her calls of my name blended into the shrieking outside of the curtain, all forming into what felt like one roaring, deafening noise in my ear. But it was almost fuzzy, like a memory of something. My sight was blurred too, looking at nothing, my eyes just resting naturally. But I didn’t process what I was looking at or hearing.

“Callie!”

I jumped to attention, my eyes focusing onto my cousin and my pointed ears perking almost straight up. “Y-yes!” My eyes were focused now, narrowing in on my cousin. Even if it was dark back here, I could still see her fairly well.

Marie’s annoyed expression from not being heard shifted into a gentler sort of smile. (To outsiders, it probably looked like a smirk, but I knew better. Everyone who knew her like I did knew better.) “You were doing the thousand-yard stare again.”

“S-sorry, I know, I’m just-”

“Hush it. You’re going to do great out there. And even if you totally bomb it, I doubt anyone will really care. I mean, as far as that crowd knows, you’ve been taking a break from preforming, so they won’t be too harsh on you. And if they are…” Her smirk-looking grin turned into her _actual_ smirk. “I’ll splat ‘em so hard, they’ll be seeing green for the rest of the month!”

I tried to chuckle, but it came out high-pitched and nerve-wracked.

“I’m only half-joking. You’ve worked so hard to get back on stage after… Well, all of that. Even if you totally flop, even just getting to this point is awesome. Anyone who says otherwise is stupid. So, stop worrying!”

“If it were that easy, I would have done it by now,” I muttered, but it was drowned out by the roaring crowd, excited for ‘Callie’s comeback performance’. (I was coming back. Just not from what they thought.)

Marie acted like she heard me to avoid asking me to repeat myself, replying, “That’s my Callie,” with a good-hearted, playful little shove on the arm. “And remember, I’ll be behind the curtain, cheering you on. I cancelled a real sweet gig for this, so make it worth my while.” She gave me a wink.

“Callie!” One of the stage workers came behind Marie, peering over her shoulder. “You should probably get onstage!”

I nodded. “Oh, of course! Sorry!”

Marie nudged the worker out of the way so she could get to her ‘Callie care package’ that she had brought, digging out a bottled drink and tossing it my way. “Don’t forget this, Calls.”

I caught it in both hands awkwardly, before holding it up in one hand to show her I had caught it. “Thanks a load!”

“Fall in water.”

I nodded, and turned away from the backstage crew and my cousin, taking a deep breath as I walked out on-stage.

The second I was visible from the crowd, the chanting of my name turned into screams of joy. I couldn’t help but jump just barely, pausing in my stride to center stage, but I quickly raised my hand to wave, playing it off like it was a purposeful stop. That made them scream even louder, but at least I was prepared this time. I kept taking deep breaths as I continued my way towards the mic (in through my nose, out through my mouth, like my therapist had taught me), already feeling like I could be sick.

I ran the last three steps, feeling rushed by their cheers, before setting down my drink and taking the microphone off the stand. The audience quieted down almost immediately, into a quiet murmur, waiting for me to speak.

I closed my eyes, and took one last deep breath in, before forcing my face to light up into a big grin.

“HOW ARE MY SQUIDS DOING OUT HERE TONIGHT?!”

The typical hollering in response to that sort of question filled the auditorium.

I winked to the audience. “And how can I forget about my OCTOLINGS?! How are my OCTOLINGS DOING TONIGHT?!”

More whooping and hollering.

I nodded casually, as if taking to a friend. “So, I take it you’re doing well, then?” That earned some chuckles.

I grinned wide at the crowd, and tried to think back to past performances, too anxious to think of anything new on the spot. I put one hand on my hip while the other held the mic, imitating a pose from one of my performances with Marie. “Now, I’m sure you’ve all missed me while I was on my break?” I raised one eyebrow dramatically.

That got a roar out of the crowd. I waited for it to be done before I spoke again.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, ‘cause I’m back and ready to perform for AAAALLL of my lovely fans!” I made a heart with my fingers, the best I could with the microphone in my hands. More cheers. “And, I think…” My throat went dry, and I turned away from the microphone momentarily to swallow, before turning back. Maybe I should have had a sip of that drink before coming out on stage. “And I think, with how long I’ve made everyone wait, I should come back with a BANG!” I made a ‘finger-gun shooting’ motion. “So, here is my hit song…”

I felt my breathing stutter for a moment, and I cut my eyes back to Marie behind the curtain. I could hardly make her out with all the shadows now, with the light obscuring my vision, but she gave me a thumbs-up.

I nodded at her, grinning, genuinely this time. “My hit song… BOMB RUSH BLUSH!” I pumped a fist up to work up the crowd, and it worked like a charm, all of them hooting and hollering.

Only after they calmed down did the first notes begin.

I took the mic away from my mouth so I could breathe, closing my eyes as that familiar song blasted. I’m sure that confused the audience, because I always danced at this part. Even the inclusion of a microphone that I held was odd, because I usually wore a headset microphone so I could probably do the enthusiastic, full body dances I always did as I sang. But all of my energy was going into keeping myself calm. Especially during this song in particular.

Once I heard the last note of the opening, I quickly brought the microphone back to my mouth, even though my throat felt dry, and forced the first line out of my unwilling throat.

_“Looking out for me, gettin’ ready ready ready ready for that.”_

I plastered on a fake smile, even though it hurt, and I did a few little movements in time with the music before my next line. I could feel my stomach turning in sickening circles. Feeling these words again on my lips made me feel like my world was ending again.

_“Make it out of town! Can I really really really really know?”_

The last time I sang this song, in front of any crowd, I was being forced to do it against my will. My memories wiped. Forced to fight my cousin, who I saw as a sister. Being played with like a puppet on strings to dance. I wasn’t in control of my own body, the only thing I thought I’d have no matter what. Taught to hate and fight everything I ever loved.

_“Don’t let… Don’t let me down, but can it be?”_

I sang and danced as DJ Octavio tried to splat that kid that I didn’t even know. I didn’t do anything to stop him. I couldn’t. I could only be used as a tool and nothing more, my music only powering that villain up further.

_“That’s it already gonna be alright, ‘cause I really really knew! You were mine! Mine! Madamada miu!”_

I let everyone down, but now I could make it up to my fans. The people who were there to support me, even when I took it for granted as I raced to catch up with Marie’s career. I could make it up to them now.

So, why was my voice starting to shake? Why did it feel like every word of this song that everyone who supported me loved was a dry heave?

_“Can’t you see that I need your love?”_

Why did it feel like I wasn’t in my body? Why did it feel like my chest was tightening, and my face was sizzling with that low-tide ink?

_“I need you for it, for it, for it, together for me!”_

What if this was all another illusion inside of those hypnoshades? What if I was preforming to help DJ Octavio again?

_“You lucked out! You lucky lover, you!”_

I could feel that tattoo of him, burning underneath these shimmering clothes. It would be there forever. It would never go away. I’d forever be branded as his little puppet.

_“Tomorrow with you…”_ I took a shaky breath, and I was practically screaming the lyrics in an attempt to get them out, trying to blink back the tears. The spotlight felt so hot on me now, making me sweat, and I felt my knees would give out underneath me any second. _“Let girls see that I need your love! I will get in, get in, get in, get in, get in line with you! You’re like the, you’re like the, you’re like the new melody!!”_

I panted from the effort I was giving, barely having the energy to turn away from the mic, a few tears falling. The audience was noticing that I wasn’t preforming well, a few judgmental whispers going over the crowd. I didn’t know if they could see me crying.

I was failing them again. I was failing Marie, my fans, and everyone who loved me. I was failing again, but it was my fault this time. I couldn’t blame brainwashing, or hypnoshades. Just my fault. My fault for getting captured, my fault for not fighting back hard enough. My fault for not being able to perform my biggest hit for the cephalopods who admired me the most.

I jerked the microphone up to my mouth, and sobbed out, “I’m sorry, everyone. You’ll get refunds,” before dropping the mic with a deafening screech and bolting offstage.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Or, if you can't, leave a kudos!


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